


Wavelength

by The_Inedible_Croissant



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Karkat/John, M/M, Slash, john/karkat - Freeform, johnkat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Inedible_Croissant/pseuds/The_Inedible_Croissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a hike deep in the snowy mountains, John and Karkat face a blizzard and must hole up together in a cave to keep from freezing to death. As the blizzard rages on outside, the campfire isn't the only thing heating up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had started out as a fabulous day, with bright sun and clear skies, but it had quickly gone sour once the snow started. Now, it was nearly impossible to even see a foot in front of their faces. John trudged through the snow next to Karkat, with his head bowed to protect his precious face. They had been wandering through the blinding white shit for at least an hour, and John was quite frankly fed up with looking at it.

Well, he assumed he was walking next to Karkat; he couldn't tell anymore. With his eyes failing in the blizzard, he had to settle on recalling his dankest memories of his friend instead. He longed to gaze deeply into Karkat's ocular orifices that contained within them irises that reflected light wavelengths that were between 620–750nm in length, making them appear as a red color to his puny human brain. And his hair, black and flowing in the crisp morning air like a flock of blackbirds flying through the sky during a solar eclipse, which was to say, pretty fuckin' dark. 

John's fabulous blue eyes sparkled like a bowl of blue jello in the sunlight. All he wanted was to spend some quality time together with his boyfriendo on a nice, peaceful hike. Was that too much to ask for? Dave had generously gifted the plane tickets to them after Karkat had saved his dog from a flaming tree, or maybe he had saved his tree from a flaming dog. He couldn't really remember anymore. The blizzard intensified, the scene transforming from the image of a blank page into a slightly blanker page. 

"We should get our asses into that there cave," Karkat said to John. John squinted and he could just make out Karkat's finger, which was pointing to the dark mouth of a cave that could have very well been a whale vagina had it not been in the side of a snowy mountain wall. John nodded and followed him into the large moist cavern in the wall.

John moved to a spot clear from the entrance, and sat on the icy ground. "Damn, it's cold and shit," he said to Karkat as he dusted the white shit off from his body.

Karkat looked at the boy intently in agreement and then suddenly matches. He lit one up, using it to light a nearby pile of convenience ablaze.

"Damn, that sure was convenient or something," John observed. He moved closer to the blaze, extending his hands to bask in the warmth. As he gazed into the fire, he reminisced on earlier days. His thoughts lingered on the week he had spent as a mailbox. He frowned.

"Is something wrong?" Karkat asked.

John gazed at Karkat with a look of whimsy, whispering with enthusiasm, "Karkat, I want the D."

Upon the vibrations of those sacred words making contact with his eardrums, Karkat's penile appendage instantly became erect, forming a glorious glowing monolith of penis in the cave's dim lighting. It expanded far too quickly for John to react, and the unlimp noodle tore right through the various pants that had dared to contain it, striking him right in the hella-kawaii eye.

"Oh shit, son!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands to his eye to protect it from the outside world as if it was a small duck filled with precious gems. He cradled it softly for a moment, rocking back and forth.

John rubbed his eyes, and as his vision cleared, he was finally free to gaze upon Karkat's scintillating ground-to-air crotch-missile. It lit up the surrounding darkness, its glow even brighter than that of the fire. It truly mesmerized him with its profound glory; it seemed to him an object that existed only on the periphery of this universe, its true form intangible to his puny mortal mind. He cursed the gods for birthing him in a form that rendered him unable to fully appreciate the grandiose of the ethereal object before him.

Carefully, as though it might flee like a frightened deer, John reached out and touched it. It made his skin tingle as it graced him with its contact, and he tentatively took it into his mouth. His orifice used for food intake engulfed the shimmering shaft like a gulper eel, able to swallow prey items up to twice the size of its own body.

As his firecracker was heated Karkat, started squawking like a blazed parrot stuck in traffic. His squawks merged into a single, ear-splitting cacophony as his wick finally caught fire from the friction. John leapt back, startled, as Karkat's radiant rod began to emit a shower of sparks. A horrible screech filled the air as his crotch-missile departed from its trolly abode, a stream of light billowing out behind it. It flew right through the roof of the cave. The entire surface was completely vaporized as it passed through the rock, revealing the open sky above.

Karkat stared after his scintillant phallus as it noped off into space, his hand grasping uselessly at the violet sky.

The sky was violet.

Then he understood.

The violet light, it came in neat wavelengths that measured 420 nanometers.

Karkat said softly to John, "420, blaze it up."

He disappeared in a puff of smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

John stared up at the sky, blinking his magnificent Windex-colored eyes like a twin pair of flies stuck to a windshield. The sky was clear, the blizzard gone and dead like his glasses that one time he had knocked them into the toilet while it was flushing. The weather had been miraculously spirited away, just like that, along with Karkat and his heavenly dong.

He looked down from the bright, mocking sun and scanned the horizon. It was nothing but mountains as far as the eye could see, everything blanketed by a thick covering of fresh snow as white and blinding as Dave's pasty ass. Shrugging, John decided he might as well get looking for Karkat and his runaway dong, seeing as he had nothing better to do. He reached out one foot, and set it down onto the snow. And down he went, the snow swallowing him up like some abomination from DeviantArt's newest page.

John shot up, sputtering the chunky white stuff suggestively from his face-hole, gasping for air. He brushed the rest from his hair and clothes, grumbling to himself. Great, like he really needed to be soaked out in the freezing cold. But he soldiered on, determined to find Karkat despite the shitty conditions. It was no easy trek, the snow reaching up to his waist. He was really starting to despise all this frosty cloud-jizz. 

He was grateful to still have a few remaining matches leftover. They sure were convenient and shit. Reaching down into his pocket, he seized one of the matches and then struck it. Holding it aloft, he gazed into it, basking in its warmth. Despite its small size, it gave off enough heat to conveniently dry all of his clothes almost immediately, regardless of all the laws of thermodynamics he was casually shattering. How incredibly convenient.

Shuffling along, John made sure to hold the match out in front so it would melt the snow that blocked his path. He created for himself a disgusting path of slush and mud. It was a sticky mixture that sucked at his shoes as he walked, making the sounds found in some weird hentai. It was quite the annoyance, as his feet would get stuck sometimes and it took a near-herculean effort to get the damn things unstuck, only for his foot to become immediately stuck again as soon as it planted back down. He looked like some bizarre freak of a man-duck out there, waddling through the mud as he was.

His match starting to fizzle out, John paused, exhausted from all the wading. His hands fell to his knees and he drooped forward, panting. When he looked back up, he saw a faint color in the air, like a minute aurora. It was as though someone had spilled a bunch of shitty bubble solution into the air but it hadn't come down. His gaze locked on it, he walked closer. Mesmerized, he trudged on, barely even noticing the snow as he was instinctively drawn to the strange apparition.

As John neared, the shimmering wave began to ripple like a giant floppy dildo, increasing in intensity the closer he got. Cautiously, he reached out and touched it. It was a light touch, his finger hardly even grazing the surface. The reaction was immediate, volatile; the whole thing erupting into violent shudders like a cat when it does that thing where it dry-heaves like a chain smoker for like an hour. Please, not on the carpet. John leapt back, staring wildly, scared of what the metaphorical chain-smoker cat might cough up. A dark, hazy shape had started taking form inside it.

John squinted as he studied it with hesitation, just in case it did something stupid and unexpected, like randomly explode or something. The dark thing transformed; its outline, once nebulous and unsteady, became sharpened and opaque. It was round, save for two long outgrowths jutting out from a tattered-looking bush-substance. 

John gasped. It appeared as though he had just stumbled upon a magical talking shrub.

And just as if he had pulled a light bulb from his ass-crack, the shape was suddenly illuminated. A pale face filled in the darkness like a cup of cream spilled into a vat of roaring sewage. John stared at the face and it grinned back at him.

“Dang, is that you, Gamzee?” John said. He blinked and paused to rub his eyes, dumbstruck. “Aw shit, how high am I?”

“Not high enough, brother,” Gamzee replied with his shrub-voice. “Here, have some of this dank kush.” He reached up with an ethereal arm and plucked a cluster from his dank-ass shrub-hair, which John now realized was made entirely out of weed. Gamzee seized John's wrist with one hand and shoved the leaves into his open palm with the other.

John stared blankly at the weed in his hand, which magically configured itself into a blunt before his eyes. He looked back at the Gamzee-shaped hallucination. “How dank is it?”

Gamzee pulled a wide, toothy grin. “The _D AAAAAAAAANNNNKIIIIEEEEEESSTT!!!_”

He raised his hands in a pair of thumbs-up as he slowly faded from existence like a shitty Windows Movie Maker transition. It was as though he was being sucked inside a black hole. Then with a final flash, the rainbow-tinted vortex exploded with a sound that was totally radical.

John was left alone once more, staring off into the distance with a fat stack of fuckin' dank weed in his hand. He gazed down at it. He thought of his matches.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, totally out of the blue, the silence was suddenly shattered as something suddenly screamed somewhere in the distance all of a sudden. John nearly dropped his blunt upon the sudden sound making sudden contact with his suddenly fabulous eardrums. 

He flipped around dramatically, and looked off into the distance. There was a dark, unmistakable shape out on the horizon. John couldn't help his lips pulling into a grin.

It was Karkat.


	3. Chapter 3

John ran towards the Karkat-shaped shape blemishing the snowy horizon, his stumpy human legs fluttering through the air as he bounded through localized space-time like a pair of geese stuck in the spin cycle. As he neared, the sun shone down upon the silhouette, and it became filled with color. At once, he was able to see all the majesty of Karkat and his two spaghetti arms. He was like a fabulous cactus with a nice wig shoved on top. His hand extended, and he pointed at something just ahead, an object half-hidden in the snow, the tip pointed out glimmering in the light like a shitty candle.

"You must go back to where you belong!" Karkat bellowed, gesturing to his crotch.

John gazed down upon the snow, mouth falling open wide as a rusted can of beans as the mysterious object began to radiate a bright light, creating what was likened to a tiny sun hiding in his back-pocket had his pants been made of frozen water.

A horrendous screech caressed his eardrums, like a knife constructed from systematically smaller knives, as the object rose up from the frozen earth like a magnificent phallic angel. A great force blew forth, shoving John and Karkat to the ground. It smelt of day-old burnt toast, leaving a foul stench lingering in the depths of John's dank-ass nasal passages, making him wish he had a very tiny molecular vacuum that conveniently ran on double-A batteries to suck the stench from his face-holes.

"There can be only one!" the fantastic flying dong cried as it rocketed towards them.

"Karkat, no!" John yelled like a seagull trapped in a trombone.

Karkat looked up, eyes going wide as he finally noticed John had been standing next to him for like, ten whole minutes, like what the shit Karkat, are you fucking blind. "John!" he cried, reaching his hand out as if he could stop the event unfolding before him.

It was as though the tension caused the whole area's frame rate to drop into the gutter, saturating with foul sewer water and all the fabulous substances that came with it. John moved through the air, effect like choppy motion blur following his movement in trails as he moved like a moving object. Tears streamed from Karkat's eyes as his stupendous, runaway dongalong raced towards John's kawaii booty with menace.

John reflexively threw the glorious blunt he had been carrying at the malevolent motile meat missile. The two forces met, and all hell broke loose. He coiled up like a box of springs, shielding his eyes from the chaos so they would not transform into grape jelly.

The glorious flashing dong crashed into the massive dooby, and they hung in the air in unceasing opposition, an unstoppable force against an immovable object. Technicolor waves began to flare out from the center, and the swirling winds unified into a steady sound that was all like _wub wub wub_.

Karkat's shrieking fleshlight-filler literally caught on fire, and finally forced through the barrier, only to stop dead in its tracks. The weed smoke surrounding the godly blunt was too dank for the foul crotch finger to penetrate, and it was deflected back like a fly to a windshield, splattering out all of its gooey white insides all over the place as it squashed like a tube of horrendously flavored toothpaste.

"Damn yooooooou-!" screeched the dong as it plummeted off the cliff. There was a distant crash, and a massive explosion rushed up from the ground below, blocking out the sun with a wall of debris that was totally radical. If was if someone had vaped an entire rainbow, and then proceeded to shove a tactical nuke up their asshole.

Karkat fell to his knees, raising his hands to the sky in a desperate plea to the gods above. "Why!?" he cried. They were safe, but at what cost? The depths of his sadness spilled over the brim of his soul-cup, and his eyes began to leak bitter tears of fresh coffee, which only made him cry harder upon the realization that it was decaf.

John came over to his husbando, whispering sweet ketchuppy words into his supa-kawaii ears. His tongue slithered out of his mouth like a wiggly noodle, lapping up his uncafinated eye leakage, transporting it down into the dank depths of his cavernous mouth-tunnel. "Stay dank, my sweet sama-llama," he whispered.

He bent down to retrieve the dank blunt. It was still warm, and he clutched it to his chest like a small chicken. Karkat watched him cradle it, and deftly snatched it out from between his dexterous finger-prison. He held it in his hands, looking it up and down.

"Damn, son!" he exclaimed. "I sure hope you weren't thinking of keeping this all to yourself."

But John's thoughts were elsewhere. He examined Karkat fondle the blunt intently, watched his hands slide up and down the supple weedy exterior as he worked the shaft. And it hit him like a knee to the crotch.

John lunged forward and seized the joint from Karkat, triumphantly holding it aloft. "Yes, it all makes perfect sense now!" he cried. And with one swift motion, he thrust the massive chunky blunt down into Karkat's featureless meaty pelvis.

Karkat yelled in confusion as the weed melded into his flesh like some kind of mating anglerfish, and the blunt unfurled into a magnificent dong. It was like a floppy chair leg welded onto his junk, complete with all the cannabis pubes anyone could ever want.

"John," Karkat gasped, plucking a handful of his leafy pubes. "You're a genius. _Infinite weed._ "

"This calls for celebration!" John hollered like a flock of ducks trapped in a shopping cart during a hurricane being delivered to the front door of a very disgruntled bear who should probably get those weird bumps checked out by a dermatologist or something, just saying.

His tongue coiled around Karkat's crotch-blunt like a bit of twine around another piece of twine used to seal off a particularly hefty bag of scraps that had been rebagged like a thousand times because those fucking raccoons keep getting into the trash. He used the convenient match he gripped at the end of his tongue to light it, and the second the tip of the blunt was aflame, its mystical weed essences were plunged deep into the orifice of his soul.

He sucked the joint into the moist cavern of his throat, gargling it like a can of beans. It lit up in his mouth, dank plumes of colorful smoke streaming out from his nostrils as the dong extended further down his internal vacuum organ.

Karkat made a noise that sounded like a plane fucking a toaster inside an opera house, and his blunt fired all of its chewy white innards out into the bodily cavity that John had used to engulf it. The dank energy seeped inside his skin, and he could feel his very being ascending to a higher plane of existence. It was the dank plane, where the dank gods came before him, and showed him the true path. He became one with the weed, and the weed became one with him.

There were no tears now.

Only dreams.


End file.
